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BY HELEN M. A. | Ae, 
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_ THIRD INCH : 


“EAST OF SUEZ’: 


SKETCHES OF INDIA 
AND CEYLON 


BY 
HELEN M. A. TAYLOR 


PusiicaTion DEPARTMENT 
Narionat Boarp 
Younc Womens Curist1an ASsocraTIons 
600 Lexinetron AVENUE 
New York 
1918 


Miss Taylor has traveled widely in the 
Orient, and spent two years in Association 
work in India and Ceylon. 


CopyRiIGHT, JUNE, 1918, BY 
NATIONAL BoARD OF THE YOUNG WoMENS CHRISTIAN 
ASSOCIATIONS 
OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 


THE LADY OF THE CINNAMON 
GARDENS 


By Heten M. A. Taytor 


“No, I don’t want to move to the 
country! Wd much rather stay in the city. 
It will be so lonely in the village and 
there’ll be nothing to do.” 

“But you will soon have friends through 
the church. You will get acquainted 
quickly, with your father as the new pas- 
tor.” 

“Yes, but it takes time to really know 
people and they won’t -be like our good 
friends here. And then you know there 
is no Young Women’s Christian Associa- 
tion, so there will be no place to meet other 
girls, no tennis club, no sewing lessons, no 


Bible class.” 


It was indeed a doleful little Singalese 
girl who was talking to her friend the 
American secretary. Sara was the only 
gloom in sight—all else was sunshine and 
laughter. Across the garden four girls 
were playing tennis, umpired by a bench- 
ful of companions. Another group was 
gathered around the tea table under the 
shade of an arbor of yellow alamander 
blossoms, and on the veranda of the bunga- 
low others were reading. In and out 
among the girls, over hedges of blue 
plumbago and bushes of heliotrope, under 
purple banana buds, fluttered brilliant 
butterflies. Across the grass strutted 
crested hoopoos, and now and then a king- 
fisher darted from the lake. Yellow 
temple flowers and snowy ginger blossoms 
scented the air, and overtopping all else 
the palms caught the sun on their gleam- 
ing leaves. 

“Yes,” said the secretary, “‘you will miss 


4 


the tennis club, but perhaps in your own 
garden there will be a place for a badmin- 
ton court, and you know that’s so much 
like tennis that no doubt you can find some 
girls in the church who will enjoy learning 
to* play it.” 

‘*‘Perhaps”—it was a dubious consent. 
‘And then I[’Il miss all the different kinds 
of girls one sees here in the city—the 
Tamils and the English, Americans and 
Burghers and sometimes even a Chinese. 
There will be only my own people in the 
village, only Singalese.” 

“That,” answered the secretary, “is the 
first objection you have given which is in- 
surmountable, yet the very fact that you 
know from your own experience that each 
nation has some special gift to give to the 
world is a reason for your going to your 
people to share with them your vision of 
world brotherhood.” 

“Yes,” Sara consented, “it has meant 


5 


much to me to have met girls from other 
nations in the Association. And then you 
know our moving has another bright side, 
for we are not going to live in the north 
of Ceylon where there are only palmettos 
and sand. We’re to live where there are 
cocoanuts. I’d not like to have to go up- 
country where they don’t grow. It is said 
they will not thrive away from the sound 
of the surf. We have always had so many 
in our garden here in town. I wonder if 
you, a foreigner, love the cocoanuts as we 
do who have always lived under their rus- 
tling leaves? Look at them over there 
around the tennis court. See how the long 
leaves wave, hear how pleasantly they 
sing! But now I must go home. Here 
comes Morisano with the hackery. Please 
come to see us. It will not take an hour 
to the station and Morisano will meet you 
with the bullock.” Off Sara drove in the 
hackery, the trim little carriage whose 


6 


brown paint and cushions just matched 
the sleek brown coat of the little trotting 
bullock. The secretary watched her smil- 
ingly wave her hand as Morisano turned 
the bullock down the lantana-hedged drive. 
“Another of our girls starting out on the 
glad exploration,” she said to herself. “I 
believe she will try to minister her gift,” 
and the secretary crossed the lawn to join 
the enthusiastic umpires and pour tea for 
some newcomers. 
* * % % % 

It was a few months later that a letter 
arrived from Sara. “Do come and tell 
us how to organize a branch of the Asso- 
ciation. There are some girls in the church 
who want one. There is no one to lead it 
but perhaps with your help I could do 
something. Do you suppose such a thing 
would be possible? My mother says I 
have no ability to do it, but you know she 
has never had the training in the mission 


1 


school that I had, and never studied in 
your Bible class. The girls will come to 
our house for tea any day you can come 
out.”” 

The very next week the already over- 
busy secretary made time to go to Sara’s 
new village home. Certainly she had not 
moved beyond the cocoanuts. All the way 
as the train rolled along beside the blue 
sea, the cocoanuts waved above it. Mori- 
sano and the brown bullock were waiting 
at the station and throughout the long 
ride the cocoanut groves crowded inquisi- 
tively above garden walls. The hackery 
was not the trim brown one, which was too 
light for such roads as these, but a sturdy 
country bullock cart. It was devoid of 
springs and Morisano sat on the tongue 
of the wagon, the only place for the driver 
to sit, of course, for where else could he 
reach the tail of the bullock? You know 
you speed a bullock up by pulling his tail 


8 


or vigorously prodding him with a short 
goad. A bullock is never a fast animal 
and when you are eager to reach girls who 
want a Young Women’s Christian Asso- 
ciation, he is an exasperatingly slow snail! 

Five girls were sitting sedately in the 
dim drawing room, as befitted a great oc- 
casion. Introductions over, the secretary 
suggested that they go into the garden. 
Why stay indoors when the birds and the 
flowers invited them out? Under a wide- 
spreading banyan they talked. Grad- 
ually the story came out—how Sara had 
met the girls in the town and how those 
in her father’s church had heard her 
speak often of the Association of which 
she was a member in Colombo. Every- 
thing that a girl could want seemed in 
some way connected with it. They all 
began to wish that they could move to the 
city that they too might belong. That 
could not be, for their families were rooted 


9 


in the village with all their family connec- 
tions. It would be like trying to trans- 
plant a thousand-rooted banyan tree, and 
everyone knows that not even the gods can 
transplant a banyan! 

One of the things that Sara had learned 
in Colombo was that some people are able 
to. achieve the impossible, and she knew 
that the secretary was one of those, so to 
her she had turned. Now the secretary 
was here with them under their banyan 
tree, telling them how they could be a part 
of this world movement. 

In a few weeks all the girls in the church 
were enrolled as members. Before long 
they were busy with a Bible class, teaching 
in a mission Sunday school for Buddhist 
boys and arranging a Christmas treat for 
their own Sunday school. 

Several months later came a note from 
Sara. ‘Do come and tell the women and 
girls of the village that one need not be a 


10 


Baptist to be a member of the Associa- 
tion.” 

At the station Sara met the secretary 
and found a sympathetic ear for her de- 
nominational worries. “It’s just this 
way,” she confided; “I’m a Baptist and we 
meet in the garden of another Baptist and 
the original members were all Baptists 
from father’s church, so people think one 
must be a Baptist to be a member. I hope 
you are not one.” She was not. While 
Morisano prodded the brown bullock and 
shouted “Mak! mak!” at him, the sec- 
retary jogged along beside Sara, marvel- 
ing at the change that had come over her. 

‘Are you satisfied now in the country?” 
she asked. 

The black eyes flashed happily. ‘In- 
deed, yes. You were right. I needed to 
share all I had learned in the Association 
Bible class. I am more contented here 
than in Colombo, for I have been able to 


11 


give something they need. My mother is 
so astonished because somehow I have 
found out how to do these things.” 

Even the farseeing secretary was sur- 
prised at the well-planned meeting that 
awaited her. The schoolroom was filled 
with women and girls and on the platform 
were all the ministers of the town. It was 
a world circle they took that afternoon 
through many countries, many creeds, 
many needs, many talents, but everywhere 
were girls like themselves to receive and to 
give. At the close of the meeting the min- 
isters each and all came to the secretary 
and said: “We need a fully trained foreign 
secretary. There are ten thousand Chris- 
tians in these villages. Can you send us 
one?” 

Have you ever tried to explain to a 
group of Christians in the Orient the real 
reason why Christians at home are not 
sending more men and women and money 


12 


to the non-Christian lands? ‘Then you 
know how that secretary felt. 

The train was late that evening. The 
darkness had fallen swiftly as it does in 
the tropics. Just beyond the station a 
ribbon of white beach ran down to the sea 
and the pounding surf. The afterglow 
had faded from ocean and sky but on high 
the moon sailed, dressing sands and surf 
in cloth-of-silver. Between the sands and 
the moon, islands of cocoanut leaves 
floated, casting a black reflection on the 
white beach. While she walked beside 
the moonlit sea that connected Asia and 
America, the secretary wondered what 
could be done for the girls in this out- 
of-the-way Christian village in Ceylon. 
‘Somewhere we must get a helper for Sara. 
It is too heavy a work for her to carry 
alone. Oh, if we could only find another 
Singalese woman who could be a leader!” 

# * * ® % 


13 


One morning the secretary sat at her 
desk planning how half a dozen might do 
the work of a score when Sara came in. 
Her face was aglow with enthusiasm. 
“I’ve had such an audacious idea—I had 
to come to town to talk to you about it. 
Perhaps you'll think it is as impossible as 
my mother does, but I don’t think you 
will. I wrote that your talk had helped 
the village to see the broadness of the 
Association and_ several from _ other 
churches have joined the branch and we 
have one Buddhist girl. We are coming 
to our first birthday with something like 
a real associating of girls. It’s about our 
annual meeting I’ve been thinking. Per- 
haps you don’t know that our village is 
almost in the middle of the cinnamon gar- 
dens of Mr. De Silva. Everyone looks up 
to him as the great master. They know 
the real king-emperor is in London but 
many of the villagers think Mr. De Silva 


14 


is the richest and most powerful of men. 
Perhaps that is natural, since most of them 
depend on him for their living and they 
can’t see such a close connection with the 
king-emperor! Now this is my audacious 
idea. Mrs. De Silva is on the committee 
of the city Association. Do you suppose 
she would consent to preside at our annual 
meeting?” 

That was an idea! For several years 
this charming Singalese lady had faith- 
fully attended committee meetings and had 
given bountifully of her silver rupees, but 
never had anyone been able to persuade 
her to undertake more public work. Her 
plea had always been, “I am only a Singa- 
lese lady and have never done anything of 
the kind.” It would be a triumph if she 
would preside. ‘‘We can telephone now 
and ask her if she can see us. Ill go with 
you and you can ask her.” “Oh, no,” 


Sara gasped, “I’d be frightened to ask a 
15 


great lady like her to do anything. I 
can’t. I’d not know what to say.” 

It was a palatial house they entered. 
Sara had never dreamed. of having its mas- 
sive iron gates swing open for her. But 
when the great lady received them in the 
drawing room, Sara found she was not in 
the least awe-inspiring. The introduction 
was scarcely over before Sara was saying 
how much her people needed her. It would 
mean so much to them all, not only to those 
who worked in the cinnamon gardens, if 
they knew that the great lady was inter- 
ested in the Young Women’s Christian 
Association and in the Singalese people. 
The need of her people had so filled Sara 
that she had quite forgotten herself as she 
made her plea. It was a much-surprised 
secretary who heard Mrs. De Silva say, 
‘TI have never been on a platform, I have 
never said a word in public, but if you 
think it would help—IT'll do it.” 


16 


Think of the very hardest rain you have 
ever seen in America. If you double or 
triple that you will have a fair sample of 
a rain in the tropics. There was that sort 
of a rain on the day of the annual meet- 
ing of the village branch. The English 
president of the city Association and the 
American secretary were invited to ride 
out with the Singalese committee member 
in her motor. As they splashed over the 
red roads the secretary thought she had 
never seen the ocean such a lovely gray or 
the jungle so full of budding life. Noth- 
ing could dampen her spirits, not even the 
lugubrious remark of the president: “I 
wonder if anyone will come to the meeting. 
A monsoon rain like this is usually consid- 
ered equivalent to an announcement of a 
meeting postponed.” 

Suddenly the jungle ended. On both 
sides of the road, as far as eye could see, 
were low bushes of cinnamon. On and on 


17 


stretched the cinnamon gardens, to the 
very houses of the little town. 

The largest room in the town was the 
schoolhouse. If you didn’t know Ceylon, 
you’d think you were approaching a huge 
haymow, so close to the ground came the 
roof of palm thatch. Inside were as many 
women and girls as the room would hold. 
Various-aged brothers leaned over the 
wall, for a Singalese school in the country 
is built with the wall only three or four 
feet high and the thatched roof is upheld 
by cocoanut pillars to allow every pos- 
sible breeze to blow through the room. 

It was a representative audience. The 
majority were those whose ancestors had 
lived near by in the low-country. Their 
tight-fitting bodices cut with deep, round 
necks had tight sleeves, while the women 
who had come here to live from up-country 
had large, puffed sleeves. These wore 
their saris high on the right shoulder, 


18 


while the low-country girls used them for 
skirts only. Occasionally in the audience 
one saw a Hindu girl from South India. 
Her bodice was of red velvet and her sari 
held on the left shoulder. The only 
Buddhist member sat with the rest of the 
branch near the wheezy portable organ, 
in the corner where they vigorously led the 
singing. 

No one would have thought the presid- 
ing officer was timid and self-conscious and 
ill at ease, as she announced the hymns 
and introduced the speakers, nor that 
this was her first adventure in public life. 
At the end was an item not on the pro- 
gram, a speech from the presiding officer. 
The whole meeting, the reports, all the 
eager faces, had so impressed Mrs. De 
Silva that she could not keep still. She 
had to put her new interest into words. 
She made herself so much one of the people 
that after the meeting they crowded 


19 


around her, they too forgetting that she 
was the great lady of the cinnamon gar- 
dens. 

The low sun was gilding the under side 
of the cocoanut leaves when the people 
began to go and Sara went up to thank 
. Mrs. De Silva for her kindness. “Oh, 
Miss Sara, it was you who were kind to 
me, to think of letting me come!’ 

Then she turned to the president and 
asked: “May I take as my own special 
work helping Miss Sara in this branch out 
here? ‘To-day I have seen the need of my 
people. I want to help.” 


20 


A PAIR OF EARRINGS 


By Heten M. A. Taytor 


Esther was a village girl in India. 

In the short years of her childhood she 
played in the fields and under the trees 
as does any other girl in a small town. 
What matter if they were fields of tender 
yellow-green rice instead of waving corn, 
or if the trees were tall, sinuous cocoanuts 
instead of spreading maples? Under the 
thousand roots of the wide banyan tree 
Esther played with her toys, a gaudy doll 
of sun-baked mud or a shriveled little 
cocoanut. Sometimes she followed her 
brother when he rode the lumbering water- 
buffalo home from the slimy stream where 
it had been wallowing throughout the heat 
of the day. What fun it would be to try 


21 


to drive that ferocious animal, to perch 
atop the bony back, hold on to the curved 
horns and try to make him trot by digging 
one’s brown heels into the gray ribs! But 
that was not girls’ play. 

Esther was not very old when her 
mother gave her her own little brass 
waterpot, to let her help carry the family 
supply. The village water did not come 
from a river or lake or well, but from a 
tank, an artificial storage basin in the 
center of the village. Generations ago it 
had been dug, and its sides faced with 
stone. Two flights of broad steps led 
down into the water, those at one end being 
for the men and at the other for the 
women. 

All her life Esther’s mother had taken 
her each morning to the tank, for there 
the village took its morning bath, and the 
women exchanged the gossip of the day 
and returned home with their jars of 


22 


water. Esther was a delighted little girl 
when she had learned to walk all the way 
to her house from the tank without spilling 
one drop from the shining pot balanced, 
village fashion, on her hip. There were 
months at a time, during the rains, when 
water was so plentiful that a few drops 
lost would not matter. Then there were 
months in the hot season when the vil- 
lagers hoarded it greedily, knowing from 
bitter experience that no more could be 
had when the storage tank was exhausted. 
The village had sad memories of burn- 
ing days and burning nights, when the 
parched people waited for the coming of 
the rains. 

It was not until later that Esther 
learned why the bo trees in her village had 
no stone gods under them, why the house 
of worship was so plain and simple com- 
pared to the ugly, repulsive shrines of the 
neighboring villages. The wayside shrines 


23 


of the Hindus were a common sight ; stand- 
ing under a bo tree would be one or two 
smooth stones smeared with red, or a cobra 
crudely carved in stone. Often Esther 
_ had seen a man prostrate himself in the 
heat.and dust of the road before these 
stones, and she had known that the 
lifeless stones could not satisfy his yearn- 
ings or calm his fears. She began to know 
what the difference was between the two 
religions when her mother told her stories 
of her ancestors in the far western land, 
and of a girl of her people who had become 
the famous queen Esther, and as this 
modern Esther grew up in her Jewish vil- 
lage in South India she saw more and 
more clearly the gulf between the religion 
of her people and the idolatrous Hin- 
duism around her. 

The days sped on, one day as much like 
another as one garland of marigolds is 
like another, until for Esther the great 


24, 


day came. The mango fruit had ripened 
for twelve seasons since she was a baby, 
so by popular consent she was now grown 
up, and at last her mother said she was 
old enough for the gold earrings! 

There were sovereigns enough to make 
them. Esther had watched that precious 
store of gold grow through the years,— 
now a big copper pice, now an anna piece 
of nickel, and sometimes, when the rice 
harvest had been unusually fine, a whole 
silver rupee had gone to swell the hoard. 
Several times she had seen her mother pull 
a handful of money from its hiding-place 
in a hole in the wall, and had helped her 
count out fifteen rupees’ worth of copper, 
nickel and silver money. They had car- 
ried all this wealth, securely tied in one 
corner of her mother’s sari, to the village 
money lender, and had received in ex- 
change a shining yellow sovereign. 

So now, out on the low veranda, shaded 


25 


by a dense banyan, sat the village gold- 
smith. Word had come to him to bring 
his tools, his bellows and furnace to make 
a pair of carved earrings. In the cool of 
the morning he arrived and the mother 
brought from their hiding-place the hoard 
of gold coins. They talked together about 
the design and as he arranged the tools 
for the work, she settled down comfort- 
ably, for of course even though he had 
made all the family jewelry for years, he 
must be watched. Who would think of 
handing gold to a smith and then not 
watching lest he substitute baser metal? 
Shyly Esther looked from the doorway. 
What happiness when the first yellow disc 
was finished! Eagerly she picked it up 
and weighed it in her hand. How big it 
was! It almost filled her palm. Few of 
the village women had such large ones. 
Now she was glad for the very long time 
when they had been making the holes in 


26 


the lobes of her ears larger and larger, 
for one cannot wear such big discs unless 
there are wide holes to sink them in. 
Caressingly she toyed with it while she 
watched the goldsmith beat the other on 
to the mass of resin that was to hold it 
while he carved the intricate design. How 
skilfully the sharp tools cut the shining 
metal, how the sun flashed on the new-cut 
pattern ! | 

At last, after many hours of careful 
work, the great gold discs were finished. 
The mother’s years of thoughtful saving 
were rewarded when she saw her daugh- 
ter’s delight in her new treasures. And — 
how lovely, too, was the fair brown face 
between the shining discs of gold that 
caught the sunshine. Her eyes glowed 
with pride! 

The next morning perhaps it was not 
only a wish to help carry the water that 
made Esther eager to go to the village 


QT 


tank. The brass waterpot on her hip 
shone brilliantly, her red sari was draped 
with even more grace than usual, yet she 
tried to look unconcerned when she walked 
past the neighbors’ houses. . She even 
stopped a minute on the top step of the 
tank to look up at some gray crows chat- 
tering on a palm leaf. She could not but 
create a sensation, for she had chosen the 
time when the tank was most popular. The 
bathing-place was crowded. Some women 
were in the water, others were on the steps 
filling their jars and exchanging the news. 
The arrival of the earrings was well 
staged, and the commotion created was all 
that any girl could desire. But was there 
not some excuse for her feelings, since no 
other woman in the village except her 
mother had such large gold ones, and not 
even those were so delicately carved? 
More than all else, however, was the con- 
sciousness that now she was a woman and 


28 


had something that was her very own 
possession. 

While she was yet a little girl, the day 
had come when Esther found out that even 
as her village was different from the Hindu 
villages, so her father was different from 
the other men of the countryside. He was 
going to have her do an impossible thing, 
something no other girl there had ever 
done—she was to learn to read. As she 
studied, and the wide circle of the world’s 
people became hers, little by little the 
desire grew in her to help her village. 
Perhaps it would be well to teach read- 
ing—but no, that would not help all the 
women, for some were too old and feeble 
to learn and some didn’t want to learn. 
And then there were the tiny babies who 
needed help. She knew what was being 
done by western medicine and decided to 
become a physician. 

In this way it happened that like many 


29 


another village girl in other lands, Esther 
went up to the great city to study. The 
journey in the train was strange. It 
went so much faster than a bullock cart. 
Through all the long miles she was full of 
anxiety lest her earrings be stolen from 
her. She had taken them out of her ears 
and in the yawning holes in the lobes had 
put coils of bamboo leaf. If you have 
only twists of a leaf in that big hole in 
your ear, your traveling companions will 
not know how fine are the gold discs that 
belong there. So she arrived safely in the 
city with these choicest possessions and 
went to the student home of the Young 
Women’s Christian Association. 

It was very different from her village, 
this wide-spreading city, and the hostel 
was very different from her home. There 
were twenty girls and she was the only 
Jewess. The others were Christians or 
various kinds of reform Hindus, and there 


30 


was even a Buddhist, so that she had to 
consider again the meaning of her Juda- 
ism. In the evening all the girls of the 
hostel met in the pleasant living room for 
prayers, and there Esther heard for the 
first time the fulfilment of the prophecies 
she had been familiar with in her Old 
Testament. The New Testament was. 
opened to her. Here, then, was the 
Messiah! 

It was a very happy year, with her new- 
found Christianity and her studies. She 
delighted in the life in the hostel with all 
the other girls, and she was not a little 
proud that her earrings were the finest of 
any there, although she tried not to be 
too conscious of them. 

At last April came bringing the long 
vacation when she might journey back to 
her own people. 

The village was glad to see her. The 


women gathered around to examine the 


31 


clothes she was wearing since her year in 
the city, but they shook their heads in per- 
plexity and said to each other, “She’s still 
wearing her earrings.” The same thing 
happened the next year at the time of the 
long vacation, but this time the women 
said openly to Esther herself, “You are 
still wearing those earrings!” 

The last long vacation came. The next 
time she came home it would be as a 
“licentiate of medicine,” the degree con- 
ferred on her by the British Government. 
Day by day through the long burning 
months she went to the village tank with 
her mother, and there met the other 
women. “You say you are now a Chris- 


> was their anxious comment. “Yet 


tian,’ 
you still wear your earrings? And you 
are going to be given a title for your 
learning by the great English Raj?” 
“Yes,” replied Esther. ‘You are the only 


woman who has ever gone away from the 


32 


village, the only woman in the entire 
countryside who has ever learned to read 
and write, yet you still have those big 
holes in the lobes of your ears, still wear 
those big rings! What, then, has your 
education done for you? Have we not 
heard that those with western learning do 
not make such holes in their ears?” 

When college opened again in July, 
Esther began her senior year much 
troubled. How could she give up her 
lovely gold discs?—yet her people would 
not believe in her Christianity unless she 
did. Through the months the question was 
uppermost in her mind. It was a long, 
hard struggle. She had planned to go 
back to help her people and for them she 
had refused a good Government position. 
Must she give up the only possession that 
was her very own? 

The rains came and went. One short 
vacation followed another, yet the ques- 


33 


tion was still unsettled. “Finals” drew 
near. Could she give them up? Could 
she keep them? 

It was just before the conferring of the 
degrees. One of the secretaries was talk- 
ing to Esther. ‘I suppose that as soon 
as you have your degree you go straight 
back to your village?” Something crys- 
tallized in Esther’s mind. The long 
struggle was over. With shining eyes she 
looked up and said: “‘No, first I am going 
to the hospital to have the holes in my 
ears sewed up. I cannot take to the 
women of my village the Christianity 
which they need more than the medicine, 
if I go on wearing my earrings. But how 


gladly I give them up!” 


34 


| na yh) y 
iv i ay, 


THE INCH LIBRARY 


Three sets of nine leaflets, bound in colors, put up in 
‘a slide case one inch in width, First and Second Inch, 
50 cents each; Third Inch, 65 cents. State clearly which 
Inch is desired. 

I—First Inch: 1. Being Good Friends With One’s 
Family. 2. Discovering a Year. 3. “The Way.” 
4. Peter of the World, a Fable on Social Service. 
5. Are You Triangular or Round? 6. The Difference 
‘Between Feeling and Willing in a Girls Religion. 
7. A Girl’s Questions About Prayer. 8. The Kingdom 
of Our Thoughts. 9. A Little Essay on Friendship. 

II—Second Inch: 1. A Girls Courage. 2. Your 
Grandmother’s Job and Yours. 3. Pulling Together. 
4. A Girl and the Caste System. 5. Broken Swords. 
6. The Secret of Eternal Youth. 7%. The Prayers of a 
‘Week. 8. The Gift of Leadership. 9. “God’s In His 
Heaven.” 

11I—Third Inch: 1. Geographical Adventures in 
Friendship. 2. One of the Shining Ones. 3. The Russian 
Chair in “Stage-Coach.” 4. The Mark on the Loaf. 
5. East of Suez. 6, Not So Very Different. 7. Bargains, 
8. Saki, “New Woman.” 9. Carmela. 


_ THE GIRL’S YEAR BOOK 


If you like the Inch Library you will also like this 
book of Bible readings and comment for every day in 
the year, written in a girl’s language. The cycle of 
reading can be begun at any time. Serves as a birthday 
book as well. Price 50 cents. 


ORDER FROM 
PUBLICATION DEPARTMENT 
NATIONAL BOARD YOUNG WOMENS CHRISTIAN ASSOCIATIONS 
600 LEXINGTON AVENUE, NEW YORK 


